Well, This is Awkward

Let me tell you about a little something that happened today at the end of my group meeting for my theatre project...
Somehow, as things were wrapping up, we (the girl and the boy that I was talking with) got on the topic of self-destructive tendencies. The girl said something like, "I don't know why people do that, or how they get to that point. It's so strange to me. I hope they know they're not alone." The boy nodded, adding "Yeah, I knew these two guys who talked about how they had to cut and I told them that we couldn't be friends anymore." (That sounds a lot more harsh than the way he made it sound; I just can't remember what he said verbatim.)
Normally, I actually forget about the scars that brand my arms but I instantly pulled my sleeves to my wrists as this conversation continued. I don't think these two noticed--people tend to see what they want to see as opposed to what's really there--so it was weird, sitting there and feeling attacked as they talked.
It makes me wonder if people notice and--if they do--if it makes them avoid me. I'm not scary, I just had some hard times.
I was relieved that, a few minutes into this whole conversation, everyone had to leave. I'm all for listening to people's opinions and, if you were brave enough to ask me about why I did it, I'd explain it do you. But having to sit there and knowing that they probably would judge me if I owned up just made me kind of scared. They're some pretty great kids and I like hanging out with them.
"Well, this is awkward," was exactly what was running through my head as I fixed my sleeves and hoped they wouldn't notice my fidgeting. I don't want to think that they'd be the types to stop hanging out with me if they discovered something they didn't like about my past. But maybe they are.
Awkward.